


A Red Cloak

by BigMammaLlama5



Category: The Priory of the Orange Tree
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigMammaLlama5/pseuds/BigMammaLlama5
Summary: Over two years have passed since the fall of the Nameless One, and it has been almost as long since Queen Sabran has laid eyes on Eadaz du Zāla uq-Nāra, the Prioress in the South. Now, Inys is expecting visitors from the South, and Sabran awaits their arrival.





	A Red Cloak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nirav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirav/gifts).



> HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH TO NIRAV I'm surprised there isn't a Priory tag on here yet.

Rain pattered against the tall latticed windows of the eastern facing cabinet room. The steely grey sky hung low over the churning ocean of froth and slate. The room looked out towards the front gates of the Castle of Ascalon and out over the soggy public grounds. No sun had touched the Queendom of Inys in nearly two weeks and it’s occupants were starting to feel the effects of the oppressively dreary weather. Today, however, there was a buzz in the chilly air. The Crown was expecting the arrival of a dignitary party from the Priory for the first time in Inys’s history.

“Your grace?”

Queen Sabran of House Berethnet, ninth of her name, the Magnificent, startled from her reverie at the gentle prompt from one of the Crown’s Treasury advisors. She pulled her gaze from the front gate with a nearly painful effort and centered herself back into the small cabinet. The fire popped in the grate and the advisor who had spoken shifted his shoulders in her direction with an incline of his head.

“If it would please you, your grace, we can adjourn until tomorrow?”

A prickle of heat crept under her collar and Sabran realized she was not being as subtle in her nerves as she had thought. She chided herself for her slip in attention and laced her fingers together in front of the documents spread out before her.

“That will not be necessary. Please continue.”

The advisor inclined his head again a continued with an  _ of course, your grace _ . The meeting continued and Sabran leaned forward to partially obscure the gates to ease her temptation to drift off again. She chimed in where she could, listening carefully to the numbers and stipulations being presented. It was far more work than she, nor any of her foremothers before her had truly done. Yes, they were present and ruled as seen fit, but none of her ancestors had taken the interest in the numbers of the Queendom past what the general treasury presented the crown the way she had. And in reality, Sabran could understand  _ why _ they had. Producing a daughter and extending the misinformed bloodline protection had been more important to the Crown than finances.

Well.

That, of course, was no longer the case. Truth be told, Sabran was rather enjoying herself now that the looming task of childbearing was off the table. It had been difficult to shift her mindset, and she  _ did _ miss and mourn the child she had lost, but it gave her the opportunity to serve Inys and Virtudom in a way she never thought she would have been able to. She was safe in the knowledge that she was tangibly helping her people now, and she was finally starting to see the fruits of her efforts. Having a hand in helping run the droll, yet essential, tasks vital to keeping a Queendom afloat gave her a sense of purpose, even if some days she would much rather shovel the ash from the fireplace.

Sabran took a new sheaf of parchment offered to her and read through the carefully printed stipulations the Empire of the Twelve Lakes in the East had sent in response to Inys’s inquiry for trade. To be specific, an  _ updated _ list of stipulations that had passed between the Kingdom and Queendom a number of times.They were close to reaching an agreement. So close that nearly everyone could taste it and the merchant guilds in Inys were nervously awaiting the news, inquiring after the process at least once a week when the Crown held court. Just that day she had reassured the Master Leatherworker that Inys was drawing closer to a trade agreement. It had been the same answer she had given the Master Smither not four days prior and for her  _ own _ patience she was hoping trade negotiations would reach an end.  _ Soon _ .

Sabran frowned slightly as their discussion reached the end of the list. Again, the trade proposal swayed in favor of the Eastern Kingdom. Inys may be small, but Sabran refused to let her people be taken advantage of. In one of her letters, Ead had called her  _ stubbornly bullheaded _ , and then encouraged her to stand firm in what she believed was best for the Queendom. Her letters were rife with playful comments throughout her recounting of news, leaving Sabran to imagine her love grinning crookedly with each delivery.

_ Ead _ .

How she  _ missed _ the woman. Two long years and nothing but letters between them. It was a horrible ache that could not be sated. Sabran gingerly put the sheaf of parchment down in front of her and imagined that she could set it alight with her glare. After a long moment of the list mocking her and regretfully  _ not _ bursting into flame, she returned her attention to one of the other advisors who was venting his own frustrations. She felt secure in her financial counsel's shared aggravation and let them argue amongst themselves as the exhaustion from her long day began to set in. The thin gold circlet decorated with delicate beaded strands of the finest precious stones felt like a crushing weight on her brow. She fidgeted discreetly with her ring of office on her right forefinger and started thinking again about the -

There was a figure in the doorway.

Sabran’s gaze snapped up to the new person, hidden by the partially ajar door to the cabinet room. They -  _ her -  _ frame was cloaked in deep red, and the brightest white peeked from underneath. Her hood was up but Sabran knew the set of those compact shoulders and her heart leapt into her throat. Her spine straightened and a thrill of shock and emotion lurched heavily into her chest. She was quite certain that her mouth fell open in surprise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Ead.

It was  _ Ead _ !

Sabran wrenched her gaze from Ead and cut politely across her advisors. Oh she didn't  _ want _ to look away and it was like tearing her heart from her chest.

“I believe that’s enough for today. We will continue on the morrow.”

There was a hasty scramble around the table to rise with her and the men wished her a pleasant evening. Before they could finish their farewells, Sabran was weaving around the table to the door. Ead had disappeared but she knew where she was going. Where they could have a semblance of privacy.

Her richly embroidered skirts whirled about her legs as she strode down the hall with an urgency, fighting not to break into a run. The strands of beads brushed against her cheekbones and her heeled boots were a dull tattoo on the lush carpets. A swirl of butterflies filled her stomach and Sabran was almost convinced that if she opened her mouth, several would fly out. She wove back through the high arched halls to her wing of the castle, past the Knights of the Body snapping to attention, past the art and tapestries that were all smearing into a blur as her vision tunneled to the route leading to the Queen Tower. The Knights stationed there jumped to attention and pulled the heavy oak doors open with a polite greeting.

Up she went, climbing and circling past her personal boudoirs, her sitting rooms for each season, her personal library, her study, and into the innermost royal apartments. There was a stitch in her side and her breath was short from her furious pace, but she felt lighter than air. Energy vibrated through her bones and she felt that if she stepped quick enough she could fly.

Queen Sabran in all of her imposing glory strode into her Privy Chamber and caught her Ladies of the Bedchamber off guard. They scrambled to their feet in pseudo panic and rushed to assist her. Again she politely cut off her subjects as her eyes swept the room. She wanted them  _ out _ .

“You are all dismissed for the evening. I wish to be alone tonight.”

“B-but your Majesty-!”

“I  _ must _ protest, you won’t be safe-“

“Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider-“

“I am here to serve you my queen-“

“ _ ENOUGH _ .”

The room fell still.

It wasn’t often she raised her voice to a shout and she could feel the tension in the air that she had caused. Sabran turned back towards her flustered chambermaids and smoothed her face into one of pleasant indifference.

“I will not be swayed. I assure you I am quite safe.”

There was a chorus of simpering disapproving titters but Sabran remained firm. They tried to convince her again but she simply linked her fingers together loosely and arched a brow in challenge. A trick she had learned from Ead. The weak (yet acceptable) protests died out and the women filtered away with deep curtseys, worry etched on their brows. Sabran watched them leave one by one until faithful Margaret remained by the door.

“Your grace?”

“Lady Margaret?”

The chambermaid’s mouth tried to quirk into a grin at Sabran’s cheeky tone but she kept herself in check. The years had been kind to Margaret, and her resemblance to Loth had only grown. As had her friendship with Sabran.

“Your grace, if I may stay? I fear for you after all that you’ve faced.”

The quiet sound of lightweight leather boots pacing out from the open door of the Great Bedchamber made Sabran’s heart leap out of her chest and onto the marble floor. It took every ounce of strength not to turn right that moment. She watched Margaret’s eyes slide nervously over her shoulder and find the owner of her footsteps, ready to pull the small dagger from her bodice. Shock, and then  _ joy _ and Sabran was certain Margaret was about to scream her delight at the return of her friend. Screaming was exactly the opposite of what she wanted, which would draw the Knights of the Body. Which in turn would rob her of her quiet reunion and make her  _ very _ angry. She cleared her throat before Margaret had a chance to do such a thing.

“Lady Margaret, I will be safe.”

Margaret looked back to her, her mouth ajar. Back behind her. Her eyebrows started to rise as she looked again back to Sabran and the unbidden heat starting to color her cheeks. Margaret bit back a comment looking wholly too smug like the cat who caught the canary when she started connecting the ink spots. But she made no comment, curtseyed deeply, and slipped from the Privy Chamber. Her instructions to the stationed Knights of the Body to  _ leave her Majesty in her privacy- _ were cut off as she shut the heavy door behind her.

Silence settled like a thick woolen blanket on the room and Sabran took a few steadying breaths as she listened to her Ladies of the Bedchamber retreat back into the Queen Tower. When she couldn’t hear them any longer she finally let herself turn around.

Ead.

Alive, pink cheeked and slightly damp, and looking far more beautiful than she remembered.

_ Ead _ .

Sabran’s feet were carrying her across the chamber before she realized she had even taken a step and Ead was rushing forward to meet her. She reached for her, afraid this was a dream about to be ripped away, afraid that it was a cruel trick. Her hands mercifully pressed into cool damp fabric. They stopped short, just barely a hand span’s width apart, and Sabran could smell the salt of the sea and warm spice on her. She curled her fingers tightly into the deep red heavy cloak on Ead’s shoulders just as she felt hands wrap around her waist. Her fair skin looked like snow in a sea of blood.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Ead’s complexion was a clear warm umber, her teeth flashing white as she caught her lip. A thin golden ring circled through her nose and inky black kohl circled protectively around her eyes. She looked capably sharp and every inch the leader of the Priory Sabran knew her to be. Her eyes were amber in the firelight, furiously memorizing her face again. Sabran could feel her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing and it finally struck true that yes. Ead was here. Warm, alive, and glassy eyed. Emotion was thick in her throat and Sabran yearned to crush her to her.

“You’re  _ here _ .”

It was all Sabran managed to choke out against the burn of tears and then she smoothed her hands up to frame Ead’s face.

She kissed her.

Ead was soft and yielding against her, wrapping her arms tightly around her and craning her neck to kiss her more enthusiastically. The butterflies in her stomach had turned to the crackle of lightning. Fire licked up inside of her ribs and Sabran thought she would burst from the joy coursing through her veins as tears threatened to fall. She kissed Ead harder, trying to make up for lost time, and eventually had to pull back and collect herself before things started getting out of hand. Sabran leaned her forehead to Ead’s and breathed her in, pressing her nose into her cheek.

“I kept all of the letters you wrote me.”

It was the first topic she could think of.

“Even the one where I unfairly vented my frustrations?”

Ead’s voice was a warm balm on her soul. She could feel herself knitting back together, piece by piece.

“I read that one the least, but yes.”

Ead pulled her in for another kiss and it was Sabran’s turn to lose her breath. Eventually Ead let her breathe again and Sabran couldn’t stop the words that continued to spill over. She started pushing Ead back towards the Great Bedchamber. Self control be damned. She wanted her.

“My heart hasn’t known warmth since you returned to the Priory.” She mumbled against Ead’s mouth.

“Let me be that warmth for the little while that I am here?”

“I would have no one else but you.”

Ead smiled against her lips and pulled tighter at her waist as Sabran started fumbling with the clasp of her cloak. With a hint of a frustrated grunt, Ead raised herself up onto her toes to bring her closer to Sabran’s height. She couldn’t help her own laugh.

“Why is royalty always so  _ tall.” _ Ead complained to no one in particular.

“I do not remember this being an issue before. Perhaps I have grown taller? Or have you shrunk?” She teased and pressed a kiss to the corner of Ead’s mouth as they passed into the Great Bedchamber. Ead drew back, her expression drawn into one of mock annoyance. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glinted playfully in the low light.

“I can leave.”

“You wouldn't.”

Ead laughed. Sabran pressed into her until the backs of Ead’s legs hit her bed. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against hers as Ead spoke again.

“You know that my heart is yours still.”

“And mine yours. Stay with me tonight.” She murmured through a kiss.

“Let me show you that I can still be generous.”


End file.
